On The Road Again

I have been single for over 25 years and I have spent a lot of time alone. But there was always, in this quarter of a century, people and projects that filled my days. My children, my friends, my dog, my job, my business and, yes, there was, on occasion, a man. These permeated the silence with intention, purpose, joy, challenges, and love. I learned to live alone but was never lonely as there was always someone or something that made the solitude simply a momentary lapse or a transition in the busy-ness of living. I was content, I was focused. I never thought my life was empty.

I learned to travel solo—from road and business trips to adventures in faraway lands. I went by myself to restaurants, movies—places that people normally share with another. It was just me. It all became second nature for I came to realize that if I did not take myself, I would never go. I would not let a singular existence limit the possibilities. I likewise enjoyed simpler times alone in my garden, contemplating a work of art, or just sitting amidst by momentoes. (I have always loved my “things” as they are souvenirs of my life story.}  I was content. I thought I had figured out my style of living.

Then everything exploded.

And, during almost two years in Sacramento, I had to deal with the pain of an unplanned, unexpected, and unbearable reality. And suddenly being alone became true loneliness. The sound of silences became palpable.  And I had to realize and surrender to this dark side of solitude. I had to sort it out, deal with the tremendous loss and trauma, and accept that mine was a solitary life, in the truest sense.

It was startling. I began to sort through my situation in my writing which ultimately compelled me to write this blog. Little did I appreciate that my chosen title of SOLO IN SACRAMENTO would capture the naked, honest realizations of my world. For you see, through this writing, I finally had to face the past, tackle the sorrow, and ultimately make a personal acceptance of the ramifications which now defined my present.

Frankly, it seemed as if the universe was merciless during this time in Sacramento. It was almost too much to comprehend. To make sense of it all, I arduously wrote about each of the following:

…People whom I loved passed away in unbelievable, unstoppable waves of loss.  I watched my beloved dog fail as I desperately tried to hold on—only to finally come to terms with the ultimate, sad good bye.

…I had to process the traumatic circumstances that brought me to Sacramento. It hung heavily as I sought to make sense of the unthinkable and rise above the emotional desolation.

…I had to accept the ultimate reality of living in the final chapters of my years.  I was no longer the 20 something or even the forty something that could still forge forward with a future in sight. My days, quite frankly, are now numbered. As a result of the inevitable aging process, I now lived in a life reality where no one would hire, date, or respect my accomplishments and experiences. Often, no matter how hard I tried, the proverbial “doors” of promise would close. No, actually they slammed shut. I had to find  kinder means of “making” it within the world’s and my comprehension of aging.

But I kept trying.  I simplified not only my lifestyle but also my expectations.  I never “blamed” Sacramento. It was simply the place where I landed when the tornado touched down. I was Dorothy in my modern day, suburban Oz. Yes, there were dear friends who patiently listened and supported. I will forever be grateful. But there were also false friends. I don’t “blame” them. They were yet another by product of change. Most people prefer to live quite comfortably in a personal bubble of platitudes and self-interests. I was too weird, too foreign, too out of the box for them to handle. I did not and could not fit into their worlds.

Ultimately, when you watch your world implode, you are forced to learn, change and become a truer person.  An old friend actually said to me, “I am so sorry for all that has happened. But, honestly, I like you better now.” She is right. I had no choice but make sense of what is in order to find peace and grace.

And this is what I have learned. I share this in respectful acceptance.

--I am proud of the richness of my past. My past is my legacy and it is a damn good one, albeit not the norm from most perspectives. A traditionalist by nature, I still found it in me to challenge the easy roads and seek the unknown.  I am especially proud that, in spite of ALL my mistakes, I did the best I could and I never compromised my spirit. My accomplishments and my failures were my own.

-- I have learned that the pain of life is necessary and inescapable. And that true maturity is to face it all and learn the lessons. That sounds simplistic but, in this life of an immigrant child with a family wracked with shame to the adult who had to teach herself how to love and live fully, this is complicatedly huge. It has taken me 60+ years to accept that my past doomed, inspired, and ultimately challenged me to become. It has taken me 60+ years to grow up.

--Yes, I am in the final chapter of my life. For the girl who was (and in many ways still is) an incurable romantic, I accept that my chances for romance have faded. I have loved foolishly, deeply, conventionally, and co-dependently.  All is in the past. I realize that it is not my destiny to find, in this lifetime, the man that is right for me. This is not a feminist stance. It is a bittersweet acceptance. Also, in this final chapter in life, all my career highs mean nothing in this constantly changing, cut throat world of business. It’s over. There is no longer a career track.  I just need to select simpler niches to enjoy and hopefully allow me some monetary support. In short, I need to work so it is up to me to find less complicated means. And ignore the clichés of the driven.

--There is still hope. Hope that surprises in the most unexpected of ways; though not in the grandiose expectations that were once so important to me.  Hope that my family and friends will be happy, healthy, and will find a moment to laugh or share or even spend an hour or two with me amidst their busy lives.  Hope that I will walk in a New York summer rain.

--And, yes, there is still love. BIG LOVE of family and friends. And sweet, simple love that that compels. Fine art, dogs, flowers, musical  theater, a great script, beautiful dress, and rock and roll. In this crazy world, in my crazy life, it may be that I am alone but I know what fills me with happiness and makes my soul smile.

--And so now…for the final, knowing announcement:

I have been told by friends that Sacramento was simply an interim stop. For the past two years, I have denied this. Honestly, the thought of moving is daunting (trust me, packing and unpacking boxes is NOT fun). I am even more weary of another unknown place, more assimilation, and the loneliness of yet another new life. So, I paid no heed to those who asked what is next. I thought I would try to fit, try to figure out, try to make it work in Sacramento.  But, deep down, I have known that this is not, despite fearful protestations, my final destination. And at my age, the urgency and significance of the word “final” carries more frightful truth and significance than it ever has. I had to ask myself if Sacramento is where I will ultimately die. And I knew the truthful answer was, “No.”

Of course, if I can wait it out and still be around, I would love to live my “final days” basking in a New York City moment. Or an Italian "La Dolce Vita". Or living “la difference a Paris”. But, as you have probably figured out by the direction of this blog, I am going for what will realistically work (on many levels).  I honestly do not have the ultimate answer. I have been, and rightly so, too concentrated on the process and my guidelines for living.

But… I did mention that I was still open to hopeful surprises. And, finally the universe smiled.  An unexpected opportunity has arisen. And I am moving.

On my last visit to Denver, I became a butterfly.
Street art became a symbol for hope and a purpose to soar.

In a month or so, I am going to Denver. It is a place with which I am very familiar. In the height of my career heyday, I spent many years flying back and forth (from the Bay Area) as my division was headquartered and held most of its conferences in the Denver region. I have friends there—friends from my past work but also, as it turns out, from throughout my life. So it can be said I know Denver more than I ever knew Sacramento. And, honestly, financially, it is to my benefit. And that reality is huge and cannot be denied or delayed.  I will even have the opportunity to start traveling again.

But mostly, I am moving because my Denver based daughter invited me. I will help her watch her children, my grandchildren. Though I do not expect her to spend all her time with me, it is comforting to know that the love of family will be nearby. How powerful, how immeasurably touching is that?!?!

This is big and it is happening. I have just booked the moving company which will transfer my dear, remaining possessions.  I will spend these last weeks in California saying good bye (to people and places) and finalizing all the details of the transition. And yes, sometime in mid-September…I will drive my little Toyota all by myself through half of the country to relocate. At first, I dreaded this drive. But, as another friend (who recently made a cross country move) said, “You just do it because it has to be done”. Wise words and a metaphor for life. I am going to look upon it as the next adventure and a hopeful addendum in this last chapter of my life.

I have decided that, as final entries to this SOLO IN SACRAMENTO series, I will write a sub-blog about the highways, landmarks, and experiences of this trip. I envision it as an homage to Jack Kerouac, Willie Nelson, and yes Frasier, Niles and Martin Crane. The ultimate denouement in this journey that began in such pain. 

Once: Baci and me discovering the world.
He taught me to love and embrace the wonder
of life. 

Though I will be without my loyal dog, he will be in my heart. As will the memories of my Mother and the Aunt who showed me that different can be magical. And, on cold winter days in Colorado, I will share their legacy as well as mine with my little grandchildren.

Even in this last chapter, the life warrior will be on the road again to a new life. The past behind me, the unknown ahead. Always discovering and embracing the spirit that is me. Always hope-ful.

Stay tune and posted.

Road Warrior. I came upon this photo recently and thought it timely.